Both the Good and the Bad
by HARPG0
Summary: Hisoka and Tsuzuki must battle a kurabokko who can take on any form. The form it picks is Hisoka!


**Author's Note**:

This story is just for fun and no profit! Take nothing seriously, okay?

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Both the Good and the Bad

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Momentarily, amethyst eyes closed and quick hand movements followed. "I humbly call upon the twelve gods who protect me—blade of air, steel of sky, fangs of silver white—I summon thee, Byakko!"

A gale from nowhere. Dark brown hair whipped against Tsuzuki's handsome features as he watched the god of the white tiger materialize in a blaze of brilliant lights to his right.

Clouds of dust and dirt kicked up.

"Watch yourself, Hisoka!" he shouted above the roar of the tiger.

The kurabokko, or guardian spirit of the warehouse, seemed unimpressed and stood passively. Seconds ago, it had billowed up from the concrete floor like a transparent curtain. Now, the entity had reformed itself—essentially taking on the same build as Hisoka with wheat colored hair, slender arms, pale skin, narrow shoulders, and a thin waist. _She_, on the other hand, had a few other assets that Hisoka didn't possess. And her white yukata* bore kanji which was hand painted at various angles—all over from the long, squared-off sleeves to the hem at her ankles.

The cocky spirit stood in the center of a magic circle made of dark pink plumb blossoms. The circle was wide enough for her to move. And the gestures and motions made it clear that she had drawn upon traditional folk dancing and had merged it with a fighting style uniquely her own. Irises blacker than black slowly lightened to an emerald green. Her eyeshine, as the weak light from the hanging fluorescents of the warehouse hit, was an unmistakable copper color.

The entity's face shimmered. The head turned in his direction. "She looks like…" Hisoka found himself taking a step backwards "…me…"

The kurabokko who now shared his face smiled. But his mind couldn't accept it—an image of himself that was so alike and, yet, so different at the same time.

"Why?" Hisoka's voice whispered with the answer coming back, "Because I wanted to."

Tsuzuki blinked but forced himself to carry on. "Let's talk about this. We don't want to have to hurt you!" Tsuzuki warned, but the spirit dismissed it with a wave. She raked the long fingernails of her right hand against the back of her left, drawing blood. A slight tilt to pour the warm liquid. It pooled into the palm of her hand as she uttered "Tsuki-boshi." A four pointed throwing star formed—hard, metallic crimson, and with deadly edges.

The palm-sized weapon danced between fingers as she made graceful hand movements, arms swaying to unheard music with precise rhythms, eyes taking in the room and choosing the next move several steps beforehand.

Misty, black auras formed in the four corners of the vast, open space and began to spread in with soft tendrils—covering the oversized delivery doors, windows, and exit.

They were sealed in.

A tiger's roar shook the warehouse as the rain outside beat the metallic roof in a clattering din.

Her eyes lingered on Hisoka—wanting his attention, wanting _him_. The empath could feel it. _Desire_. He wondered, briefly, if he should use this to an advantage—offer to be alone with her. Maybe, just maybe, she'd open up and explain what had gone so terribly wrong that it had come to this.

Then haunted green eyes locked on Tsuzuki—making a graceful, but powerful turn, letting the throwing star fly.

Byakko, loyal as always, thundered to the defense of his summoner—taking the full blow of the star and the impact of spiritual energy that came with it.

The walls reflected the sound of the deafening explosion and the roof shook. It knocked Hisoka down to one knee and he cursed himself under his breath for being weak. His partner, though, had braced himself—barely standing.

The tiger turned again. The guardian spirit's magic circle stirred, petals sliding in a pattern on the floor coupled with a pulse of grey light to brace against the force of the white tiger god slamming into it. But the doll-like figure inside showed no concern as the giant cat approached. Instead, Hisoka's doppelganger waited patiently.

The blow came all too soon. A clash of spiritual energy. It knocked Byakko onto his side, but he quickly got up again. He began to pace with swift and fluid movements, watching heatedly the kurabokko out of the corner of his eye.

"Why did you kill those guys?" Hisoka shot out. Maybe, if he could get her talking, it would make some sort of sense of things. It had taken more than a week of searching for leads for them to track down the deaths to the rundown warehouse by the waterfront. The victims were all Japanese teens who belonged to the same "Dragon of Red Death" gang. And they had not all died at once, either. One by one, they'd disappeared while searching for their buddies. Their souls were "lost" or missing and the bodies never recovered. But, because they only hung out with each other, and caused trouble for the neighborhood, no one missed them, not even their families—which pained the blond shinigami at the thought of not being remembered. Yes, the teens had been listed on the kiseki over the past five weeks. Eight who lost their lives needlessly because of a kurabokko who took her job as protector far too seriously.

Hisoka felt it again—a mind touching his. It was almost as though the kurabokko was trying to lure him in. The shinigami teen sensed a mental barrier dropping, one that felt like silk, and what lingered behind were feelings: desire, arrogance, need. There was the expected thirst to protect, but the sensations of "control," "power" and "determination" seeped in and began to sap his strength.

She regarded him. But it wasn't so much a _look_ as it was a _slice_. Copper, cat-like, eyeshine smiled.

Hisoka ran fingers through his wheat-colored hair. It was getting to be too much. Being around spiritual creatures, just like this one, would give him a splitting headache for a week afterwards. And the aggression experienced from both sides only intensified the emotions he was exposed to. Nonetheless, he locked eyes, refusing to let her win, but his body quickly drained of color.

Tsuzuki worried for his partner. Hisoka was hurting thanks to this spirit. Whether she knew she was doing it or not, he didn't care. So, now, it was going to stop—all of it—and they were going to get some answers. It was their duty as agents of the Summons Department, as shinigami.

The white tiger struck again, this time from behind, and tumbled to the right side.

"Tsuki-boshi." The woman's grey shield flickered, disappeared, and a new throwing star with deadly, black edges was flung at Hisoka—leaving ribbons of crimson flame as it flew.

The older shinigami saw and shoved him down. An explosion of spiritual energy blasted behind them as the star struck the misty black aura covering the window.

"Wha-? Tsuzuki…?"

They fell.

The world winked out for a second as his vision was filled with a worried but handsome face framed with brown hair.

Kurosaki Hisoka found himself thrown to the ground with his clumsy partner on top of him. It didn't help matters that Tsuzuki's hand was cupped against his face, skin touching skin, and he was breathing hard. With the unexpected contact, his partner's mental shields were down, soul bare, and the blond saw more than he ever intended.

Faces.

The images of men and women ran through his head so quickly, it was hard to grasp onto what was happing. Only the memory of an exasperated, disappointed Tatsumi did he recognize. The feelings that went with them were just as difficult to hold onto, slipping through his fingers like sand: joy, wonder, friendship, hope, confusion, regret, self-loathing, despair, agony, fear… Then, the dark haired shinigami looked at him—really looked, peering within_. I wonder how long you'll stay by my side. I know what you promised in Kyoto, but I won't hold you to it._ The thought came to him followed by the sensation of having his heart wrenched. Tsuzuki's true feelings. _But I'll keep you safe…until then…when you choose to leave me…like the others did. Thank you for this much, 'Soka, even if you were lying to yourself._

He rolled off his teenage partner and stood up. With that, Tsuzuki's shields raised and strengthened to a level that Hisoka had never experienced before. The weight was incredible. It almost pushed him back against the cracked concrete floor.

Trying to regain his composure, Tsuzuki straightened up and brushed the dirt off of his coat. His mind, however, kept running at a fast pace. He could hear Byakko growling dangerously behind him, also looking for a way in—to strike at the enemy. Now, it was a matter of pride for the two of them.

"Tsu…zu…ki…" The guardian spirit said his name as a sigh.

"Tsuki-boshi" was murmured as she clawed the back of her hand to make another throwing star.

"I'm listening," he said and gave a quick glance that told Hisoka to walk away. This partner, however, being the stubborn sort that he was, chose to ignore it. When a stern look became evident, the youth crossed his arms and only bothered to take a few steps to the side to pretend to comply.

The dark haired shinigami rolled his eyes at that thinking _Why does he have to be so stubborn?_ and took a few hesitant steps towards the female figure ahead of him, yukata billowing in a non-existent breeze.

Hisoka bit on his lower lip in a frown. "_Tsuzuki_," his tone warned when he saw that his partner wasn't stopping. The empath also noticed that her mental shields were slowly returning, becoming impossible to make out clearly.

The answer was a nod. _Yes, yes…be careful… I know…_

A chilling laugh in a woman's voice filled the air.

"Tsu…zu…ki…" her voice repeated.

The white yukata flashed in his mind. There was something about it that tugged at his brain, but the older shinigami simply couldn't put his finger on it.

His name was called again in a whispered tone.

They were close and the face could have belonged to Hisoka—could have, but didn't. It was beautiful, though.

"What?" he asked and, in the time it took to blink, the woman vanished, the petals blew away from her magic circle, and she reappeared behind the tall man. More over, the woman had the blood red star pressed against his throat and her eyes on Hisoka, challenging him.

"How did she…?" the empath blurted, suddenly shocked that he wasn't able to sense any "devious" intentions from her, only faint echoes of "determination" and a deathly seriousness.

That was Tsuzuki's question, too. Then, the feel of paper was against his back and memories of the white yukata flashed in his mind. Being careful not to move, he answered, "It's her clothes, 'Soka. That's not a yukata. It's an o-fuda**…to ward away _the powers of enemies_."

"Wha-?" Green eyes stared. While, at the moment, he could only make out clearly the sleeve of the arm holding the throwing star, he could recall the rest that he'd seen earlier. Tsuzuki had pieced it all together. He was right. That had to be it. "It's probably the reason why we had a hard time tracking her here, too, combined with the magic circle as a shield."

There was a pleased chuckle behind him. "Tsu…zu…ki…belongs to me, Hisoka. Only me…to do with as I please."

The teen with wheat colored hair shook his head. "We heal really fast. There's no way you could hurt us." He looked determined and tried to make a good show of it. _Truth be told, you just might be able to injure us. I don't really know the extent of your "talents." But, still…I won't let you harm him. We're partners, for eternity, after all—even if that idiot of mine refuses to realize that._

"Not like that, Hisoka," she purred, stroking his chest with a finger.

The blond rolled his eyes at that muttering "stupid" and took quick strides to stop her foolishness only to see his partner wince with pain. He froze. Hisoka watched the woman who bore his face snuggle against Tsuzuki's shoulder while digging in a sharp edge. A pearl of blood formed and streaked down. "So sure…?" she sighed seductively, watching with pleasure as Hisoka made another movement to stop her only to hold himself back. One wrong step could result in her carving through his partner's neck.

"Willing to risk him…?" With the opposite hand, fingers toyed with the row of buttons down the front of the shinigami's shirt.

The amethyst eyes locked onto emeralds and Tsuzuki lowered his shields. This time, he gestured with his eyes that he wanted to be read_. I can't feel a shield or a magic circle. Materialize behind us. Strike at her now and it will be over._

There was a slow motion of the head "no." The blond wouldn't do it. His partner might be hurt in the process because he was now getting a faint sense of "cunning" from the entity.

"Oh, and my dearest Tsuzuki…" she said in a tone that made Hisoka's blood boil "…it's time to bring the cat in…" The sharp edge dug in a little deeper. She toyed with the top button and freed it. Fingers slid down sensuously to the next button. His eyes widened with the realization that he couldn't move a muscle but could feel the slim fingers sliding down. When had she managed to freeze him?

"Now," she said with a girlish giggle.

"Fine," Hisoka answered for him curtly and threw his partner a look that said "comply."

The tall man cringed a little—admitting defeat. And with extreme annoyance on Byakko's face, the white tiger slowly faded away.

"One question, though…" Tsuzuki glanced in her direction. "Why kill the street gang?"

She smiled at him and freed another button, sliding her hand into his shirt and stroking his chest. "Scaring people from this place…which is mine, by the way… Well, I grew tired of the sport." She removed the star from his neck and pulled off the coat Tsuzuki was wearing. It was tossed carelessly to the floor. "So," she continued, "after the first one came with the challenge, I took him."

"Challenge?" Hisoka said curiously while trying to draw in his power to sustain himself—the feeling of being drained by her continued and the headache between his eyes worsened.

"Such a pretty thing you are," was whispered in his ear. The kurabokko suddenly got on tiptoe and kissed Tsuzuki's cheek, making his face flush.

"You liked that, didn't you?" she whispered again. "And…I like you…" _You're powerful and I could enjoy you so much…in so many ways._

"TSUZUKI!" Hisoka admonished, fists balled. "Think about what you're doing!" He was furious and waves radiated from him.

"Well…" his partner said giving a guilty glance "she looks like she could be your sister." A guilty grin followed.

"Wait! What?" He cocked his head to one side, not believing what his ears clearly told him. "_Sister_?!" He gave a dumbfounded look. The blond bellowed, "You're just making up excuses now!" He pointed a finger. "And she's killed eight people!"

The dark haired shinigami tried to shrug at that, but still couldn't. His arms and legs were held firmly in place. "But it's a good point, Hisoka. I still don't understand," he went on, turning his eyes down to the entity who had now managed to pull his tie and shirt off "what challenge did you get from the _dragons_?"

"The evil ones?" she asked, wrapping her arms around his bare waist. "They must have sent many low ranking messengers. All wore the same red dragon on their clothes or tattoos on their skin."

"Clothes? Tattoos?" Hisoka blinked at that. "Tsuzuki, she must have thought that the gang members were messengers from the dragon demons."

"Messengers…" the woman said, running her hands playfully up and down Tsuzuki's chest, "…I killed them all…taking up the dragon demons' challenge… All to defend this place. This," she explained, copper eyeshine flashing, "is where we store the rice…it is life…it is wealth…it is prosperity…" She purred against his body and whispered "protect."

Hisoka shook his wheat-colored hair at that. "But those were just thugs! There was no challenge from the dragons. Those guys just happened to have dragons on their clothes."

A female version of his face raised an eyebrow. "Humans, other than an emperor, have no business wearing a dragon." The hands slid down to his belt and began to stroke it. "…The arrogance of it…would cause all kinds of difficulties…with the nobles…death being one of them…" She slid her fingertips along the belt at his waist until she found the end, pushed it back, and unfastened it. "And you were correct, my Tsuzuki, I am wearing an o-fuda. I learned how to make it from watching a miko. It took me one hundred years to fashion this one, piece by piece, from the scraps of paper that blow into my domain." She unbuttoned the top of his trousers. He blushed.

Hisoka glared—though it felt like he was glaring at himself, a self that was grinning back sheepishly.

A slim hand reached down below the button. "What is this…?" she murmured, fingers brushing against metal.

"A zipper," Hisoka answered, annoyed.

"Zi…pp…pa…?"

She circled around and knelt down. She wanted to see the strange little contraption and Hisoka made another move, as though to lunge at her. But the throwing star reappeared in her hand and the woman pressed it against the inside of her hostage's thigh, pointy end jabbing up.

"HISOKA!" Tsuzuki barked. That was one part of his anatomy that he didn't want skewered—ever.

The blond folded his arms in frustration. "But, look at what…_me_…I mean _she_…she's doing!" He gestured to the blond kneeling down.

The entity's hand slid up a bit more and Tsuzuki, sweating a little, decided to make conversation. "How long have you been protecting this rice warehouse anyway? After all, that's what kurabokkos do, right?"

"Hm?" She blinked at him with Hisoka's green eyes, standing up now. "I journeyed to his place when Emperor Komei ruled. My previous home burned to the ground in a fire."

"That would be the mid to late 1800's," Tsuzuki recalled while a small, white hand stroked his chest.

"Well, things have changed," Hisoka said tartly. "Those guys you killed were just ordinary street gang members, Tsuzuki has a zipper, and…YOU'RE WEARING MY FACE!" An angry, narrow look followed. "So, if you don't want more trouble than you're asking for, you will start by _releasing_ my partner _now_!"

Tsuzuki smiled at her in his typical, apologetic way and she smiled back. "So, can you release me…now that we understand each other better? I won't let my partner touch you." A boyish smirk followed it.

She tilted her head to one side and considered it. He was powerful. She could feel the strength in him. Not to mention, he was beautiful and desirable—the best toy she had played with in over a century. "As you wish," she said, stealing a kiss off of his cheek and watching Hisoka fume quietly where he stood.

To make matters worse, the dark haired shinigami seemed to be enjoying himself—a bit too much.

"Tsuzuki," he growled, "I'd like to know how you're going to log all of her _kisses_ in your report on this…because I'm certainly _not_ going to help you."

She laughed with a hand covering her small mouth. The emerald eyes sparkled and danced—only making Hisoka boil over with anger once again.

"My report?" The older shinigami winked back. "Oh, I think it will go something like this…!" He reached over to the front of the kurabokko's yukata and ripped it off of her body—exposing arms, thighs, waist, and petit breasts.

"NO, you bastard!!" She screamed, face red. The throwing star fell to the ground as she made desperate attempts to cover herself up with her arms. Her head was thrown back in a mixture of frustration and embarrassment as she faded away.

Tsuzuki leaned over and picked up the small, red weapon. It, too, faded from his palm. "She probably used the souls of the teenagers that she killed to power up her o-fuda. But, it was only made of paper, after all. So, once torn, it wasn't any good and she couldn't stay in this realm anymore."

Hisoka gave a short nod with a frown attached. "Well, she certainly had her hands all over you the whole time." He forced his hands into his pockets, trying to look casual. "No accounting for taste, though."

"Oh, that's so mean, 'Soka!" a half naked Tsuzuki whined, hands on his hips and a delicious pout. "You'd really let her have me?"

Hisoka only rolled his eyes at that. He wasn't going to fall for it. Instead, he handed his partner's clothes back to him and gestured for the doorway.

"Get dressed, gotta go," he mumbled, turning away to give some privacy—which, inwardly, Tsuzuki found amusing and didn't bother hiding that feeling from his partner who now wore a scowl because of it.

After a quick peek to make sure that the man was decent, he opened the door. The light flooded in with a blinding burst, rainstorm now long gone, and the pair walked off with Tsuzuki saying, "Oi, there's a great place for some apple pie around the corner. I'll treat you to some."

"You're broke, Tsuzuki."

"I am…? Really…?"

"Yes." A sigh. "So, I suppose, I'll have to pay…again."

"Thanks, and may I say that _I like you_…better as a guy… than as a girl."

Pause.

"Oi, 'Soka? Are you blushing? That's so cute!"

"Shut up!"

The wind banged the door open and closed a few times. With a slight swish, a receipt from the local convenience store cartwheeled awkwardly into the warehouse. A ghostly feminine hand reached out from the floor, brushed the ink away with a flick of the wrist, and grasped the white scrap of paper.

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Additional:

*A **yukata** (浴衣) is a light, summer kimono.

**An **o-fuda** (御札) is a strip of paper, cloth, or metal that has a magical spell or symbol(s) inscribed on it. Typically, an o-fuda can be made by a priest or miko to ward off misfortune.

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